


Like A Heartbeat Drives You Mad

by fujiidom



Series: Stacks On Stacks On Stacks [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Mimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fujiidom/pseuds/fujiidom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott didn't realize that with a promotion came the risk of life and limb, but really. All in a day's work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Heartbeat Drives You Mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellolamppost17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellolamppost17/gifts).



When Scott agrees to wear a red shirt, he isn’t told that it’ll pull him away from Books and Music. It’s not like he’s big on the books part, he’s only made it halfway through the back cover’s description of War and Peace, but the people. There’s a reason why he’s avoided searching out a more meaningful job for the past three years.

At least he’s only in high school which is more than he can say for some of the old weirdos that work in his new and intimidating Housewares and Gardening section. He knows why Peter asked Mr. Argent for him to get the promotion, his magnificently ordinary ability to lift bags of soil and small trees straight off the floor and into customers’ cars. More muscle means less work for Peter. Even though he's not in bad shape for a creepy old guy. It’s dumb to be annoyed at what would otherwise be a very kind offering of hours and pay, but that’s probably because to think it solely generous would mean that you’ve never met Peter Hale. 

Scott plays with a loose laminate edge of his newly reminted nametag and picks up the store phone. He pages the main office, trying to not to pay attention as he overhears Peter wax poetic about another random plant that kills gophers trying to attack a garden with a little too much delight. The customer seems equally put off by it.

The phone rings twice before Mr. Argent answers, his tone cold as usual. “What is it, McCall?”

“Hi, sir. Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that Allison just texted me that Peter’s little brother is wandering around the loading dock again.”

Without seeing Mr. Argent, Scott can practically hear him pull the phone away to rub his hand against his furrowed brow. “There are so many infractions to do with what you just said, McCall, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Scott frowns. Mr. Argent always reminds them to be wary of the other Hale, even if he’s only ever only waiting to pick Peter up or take a lunch break, he seems ridiculously suspicious looking. Once, Scott saw Lydia draw a sketch of him when he hadn’t moved for almost a full half hour, amused at his persistence, and she’d drawn a big dark cloak over him. Nothing could look more natural for Derek to be wearing than that. Besides, perhaps, hand cuffs. 

The dude was just bad news no matter how you cut it, which furthers Scott’s confusion. “Sir?"

Mr. Argent sighs. “It’s his nephew, turn your cell phone off while you’re on the floor, and I thought I told you before: lose my daughter’s number. Indefinitely.”

“You did. Her name’s not in my phone but I remember her number.”

“And?” 

Scott smiles, a little nervously. “Well, she’s the one that keeps texting me.”

Mr. Argent hangs up the phone.

Once Mr. Argent makes his way downstairs from the main office, he glides straight over towards Scott. He glares around the store while losening his tie knot. 

It’s not the first time Scott wonders if he’s ever killed anyone. 

“McCall,” Mr. Argent calls out to him, over the row of plant potters, two fingers pointed in his direction then back at himself. 

If there’s one thing he does like about Mr. Argent, it’s that he doesn’t hold much of a grudge. Yes, he’s always on Scott and pretty much every red blooded teenage boy in the store, for talking with his daughter. But he’s also first to throw aside personal issues if there’s more pressing matters.

Thankfully, it seems like there’s just such a situation arising. 

“I’m going to need you and a few of the guys from entertainment section. The ones that help load and unload, you know, without the goofy back braces.”

“I think that’s just Stiles,” Scott offers, cringing at the roundabout put down of his friend.

“Well, I didn’t want to outright say—” he trails off. “Those guys, some stay back there and keep the rest of the back room under control. Then come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks.

“The police are on the way. I’ve had my suspicions about the other Hale kid for a while, but I caught Peter ringing up shovels and soil twice when I pulled the tape to see Derek out back. Smug ass is trying to run a game on me in my store?” Mr. Argent says this as much to himself as he does to Scott. “I’ve been looking for a reason to sack him, glad it’s something as clear cut as this.”

Mr. Argent has Scott get Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac sit in the break room where Peter’s bound to stop by and pick up his things before joining Derek out back, as per their usual routine. 

When he walks in with the others, Allison is halfway through reheating a Cup O’ Noodles and beams at his arrival. “Hey, Scott!”

Scott panics, not just because Peter is due in the room any second, but he doesn’t want Mr. Argent to walk in and see how ridiculously flushed his cheeks must be. “You’ve gotta get out of here.”

Allison grimaces. “Why?”

“There’s something going on with the Hales, it’s probably better if you’re not around. Just to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself, Scott.”

Scott smiles, though still nervous. “I believe it. I’ve met your Dad, you know.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “What’s really going on?”

Scott gives her a brief summary of what they know and the time frame for when the police are supposed to arrive versus Peter’s shift ending in five minutes. Allison looks around at the few other people corralled in the break room, Lydia and Jackson already bickering about some Bravo show’s watchability, Dr. Deaton eating tuna on rye before he has to get back to the pharmacy counter, and Danny flipping through levels on an iPhone game in an effort to stall before he gets back to Electronics. 

Scott knows that she’s probably fine to stay here, but can’t shake the instinct to make sure she’s okay. He nods and assures her that he’ll text her updates as they come, after he finds her father and gets more information. 

Scott’s off down the hall in a flash and it’s only a few seconds before he registers a lot of yelling and curse words. He breaks out in a sprint towards the source of the noise.

Mr. Argent has his sleeves up to the elbows and his suit jacket is long gone. Scott would wager that all those times wondering if he’s ever killed someone weren’t pointless. Not only does the guy look way more ripped than his suit ever let on, the semi-automatic in his hands is held way to comfortably for it to have been the first time. 

The Hale brothers, cousins—whatever they were—both look terrified. Scott tiptoes to the end of the loading dock, where he towers over the three but doesn’t want to startle Mr. Argent.

Little moments are snapping through his head. Allison mentioning that her family grew up going on camping trips, seeing Mr. Argent annoyedly grabbing the darts from Stiles in the break room where the wall around the dart board was covered in small holes only to throw all three consecutively to hit near center from twice the distance, and a casual shrug when Erica once expressed worry they’d be robbed like several other stores in the area, last Christmas Eve.

For a small second, Scott can’t help but be a little proud of his instincts. Mr. Argent has been a trigger happy lunatic the whole time, after all.

“Mr. Argent!” Scott says in as calm a voice as he can manage, circumstances considered.

Without a flinch or a glance, Mr. Argent answers. “These men are stealing from me on my property, McCall. This is the great state of California. I am well within my rights to shoot with abandon.”

Scott isn’t sure about the legal mumbo jumbo, but he’s sure that even if he’s excited about it in the moment, Mr. Argent probably doesn’t want to hurt these guys. Yes, they’re creepy. No, he’s never heard anyone discuss flowers with such gusto. But it doesn’t mean they should just be shot and killed.

“Think about Allison, she wouldn’t want you to do this.” 

Mr. Argent’s neck cricks for a second and he lets out what seems to be an involuntary sigh. After a long beat, he lowers the gun and turns to Scott, shoulders exhausted after a long stretch of tense flexing. Scott's about to breath his own sigh of relief when Peter lunges out and snags the bottom of the rifle. 

With a loud crack, a round fires into the ground and Peter pulls the gun towards him after the initial kick back. Mr. Argent leaps, almost super hero speed, up to where Scotts standing. His body shielding the Scott completely, between where Peter sneers at him from below. 

Derek still hasn’t said a word. If Scott had the time to wonder to himself about the other Hale, maybe he would have come to the conclusion that he’s an actual mute. All evidence certainly points that way.

“Peter, drop the gun. Get the hell out of here. You’ve now got a running start.” Mr. Argent says, hands up, body like a rock in front of Scott.

Scott catches the quickest of glimpses, as Mr. Argent attempts to cover him from potential shots, of yellow and brown and khaki. Before he knows what happens, Mr. Argent is back down on the ground, slugging the caught off-guard Derek once or twice, until he stumbles to the ground.

Lowering his arms from where he’s been crouching, he sees Allison smirk. The taser cords still attached to Peter’s red polo as his body lies flat on the ground, face down. She leans down, grabs the gun, and pops the magazine and grabs a round that flies into the air. Her sensible ballet flat is propped up confidently on Peter’s back. “My dad only ever keeps two rounds in the barrel. He says any more doesn’t seem like a fair fight.”

The sound of sirens finally begins to drift closer as Scott stares at the Argents, in shock. Stiles comes bounding through the double doors to the loading dock only to skid to a stop and recoil some, at the scene. 

“My dad’s here.”

“Yes, Stilinski. We know your dad’s the Sherriff. Thanks for the reminder. Now if you don’t have anything else to add, which I’m pretty confident is the case, we’ve got this from here. Go sell Twilight books to middle schoolers or whatever it is I still pay you to do.”

Stiles makes a face and shrugs, but not before leaning over to Scott. “Dude, your girlfriend just took down an armed criminal and his flunkie on her lunch break. Bravo.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Scott says, gravely.

“She’s not his girlfriend,” Mr. Argent repeats. At his look, Stiles sputters and retreats back into the building. “I don’t know why I haven’t fired that idiot yet.”

Derek rolls to his side and touches a finger to his spit lip. “Probably because his father’s the Sherriff like you just—”

Mr. Argent looks the other direction and pretends to stumble over his solar plexus. Derek groans out in pain and wheezes. “No one asked you, Marcel Marceau.”

Later, after Sherriff Stilinski has taken down all their information and taken the Hales away to the station, the three get back to the store. Scott’s given the rest of the day off and makes a quick stop over in the break room to get things from his locker. Before he can leave, however, he realizes that he’s lost track of his phone in the chaos and starts to retrace his steps. 

He gets as far as the hallway before Allison appears out of nowhere, eyes sparkling in that way her eyes seem to always do, and holding out his phone. “You dropped this.”

Scott smiles and puts a hand on his head, feeling stupid. “Thanks. My mom would be pissed if I lost it.”

Allison laughs. “Parents, right?”

Scott laughs, deep and sincere. “Seriously.” He looks at the phone and then back to Allison. He still can’t remember when it would’ve had a chance of falling out of his pocket and given the ordeal today, he’s not sure what to think. He can’t help his curiosity. “Where was it?”

Allison smirks and shrugs. “Just on the ground outside, you know. Near the dock.”

Scott grins and nods. His instincts roaring that it’s a lie. The tension in the narrow hallway seems so extreme that it's almost as though he can hear her uneven heartbeat match her unsteady breaths.

He narrows his eyes and gives a teasing frown before saying his goodbyes and leaving for home.

When he gets home later, he’s reheating a piece of pizza for dinner, as his phone bings with a new text. He unlocks the screen and stares down at it in shock. 

There’s only a winking emoji and a heart. Sent from Girlfriend.

God, he's gonna get fired. So fast.


End file.
